


Torch of Bellona

by Wristic



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wristic/pseuds/Wristic
Summary: Being a trouble maker has been your greatest thrill so far in your short life. Youngest daughter to King Aelle you spend whatever little idle time you can get tormenting your nephew Alfred and spying on King Ecbert’s court. This particular day proved far more fruitful than you could have ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

As the youngest to King Aelle there wasn’t much for you to do outside of cause a little chaos among the noble rabble. It started as a bored prank that turned into a fun little hobby, but then it got addicting. The world was too stale and grey without being able to feel your blood pumping. What better rush then what came with manipulating people into exploding at each other, at tearing apart friends and family. It was wrong, you knew, but it didn’t stop the devious light that filled your eyes when everything came to its full crescendo.

This week was one of the rare occasions Aelle let you visit Judith. The visits were only allowed if you could come back singing a tale of hate and repulsion for Wessex. The truth of the matter was, envy was a terrible thing. Every visit filling you with aspirations you knew this world wouldn’t allow. In the one week every few months, you could play and dream, Ecbert happy enough to let you pretend to be his princess and indulge in all your every heretical thoughts. Ah but this week, this was a week only God could have gifted you.

Behind the door, a beam of light revealed the long table separating King Ecbert, King Ragnar and his crippled son nestled between them. Alfred nearly knocked you over trying to get a better view. It was easy to forgive, the guards had forbidden you both from seeing either Northmen so to finally get a glimpse, he was as restless as you were.

Of Ragnar you imagined a giant that filled the room, covered in blood and devouring children. It was the description that your father always gave; a great Heathen Lord whose lust for blood could never satiate the madness of his soul. Instead what sat in the cage was an old man, beaten and in rags, so easy to mistaken for human.

When you heard he brought a son with him you couldn’t help but imagine something like Magnus. Small and soft spoken, fair haired and frail. Instead you got vibrant blue eyes against skin a shade darker. A broad chest, his shirt indecently and unintentionally exposed just a sliver. He was handsome in all his masculinity, so entirely opposite to Magnus. Watching his eyes closely you begged for a sign that Ivar was lying about not being able to speak the Saxon tongue. People were all liars, you doubted Northmen would be any different. But during the conversation he remained passive and vulnerable, keeping mostly to his father so uncomfortably caged.

“A gold scilling he can speak Saxon.” you whispered.

Alfred looked up with a smirk. “Confident in your skepticism?”

“Always.” you boasted however untrue it was. Peeking back through the crack of the door, Ivar’s eyes wandered the room almost sad, suddenly they snapped to the door. Both you and Alfred reeled back. “Do you think he saw?”

Alfred was the first to check and quickly snapped back with his head bowed. “Yes. Yes he definitely saw.”

“How do you know?” you then found some courage and looked yourself. Ivar was nonchalantly looking around to not draw attention to the door, before looking back, a smile being forced kept at bay when he saw your curious stares. On a whim, you waved, feeling that wonderful spike of fear.

Alfred grabbed your hand making you giggle. “You’re going to get us caught!” He chided.

You weaved out of his grip. “Oh shush no I won’t!” the sound of armored footsteps startled you both but upon looking up the guards were only dragging Ivar away, no doubt back to the room you and Alfred were not allowed in.

Alfred made to leave but you gripped him. “Where are you going!? This is when the good stuff is said!” Alfred then stepped back up.

“It was wrong of my son to slaughter all of your farmers and their families,” Ecbert started. The slack in his shoulders, the dreary far off look in his eyes, the tenseness of his fingers. All of it told you something really good was about to come up. “But as you’ve probably guessed, it was done under my order.”

Alfred and you glanced at each other, you smiling even though Alfred’s brow knitted in concern. Ecbert gave himself, confessing all the more when he suddenly called for Magnus. What you didn’t expect was to hear Ragnar deny the child, spurring him and slighting the deceased Kwenthrith.

“A gold scilling Ecbert banishes Magnus.” Alfred was still disturbed, looking up in all his good-hearted denial.

“Two scillings.”

“Confident in Egbert’s good graces?” you teased. “Three Aethelwulf kills him. He always looked at the boy like he was some sort of betrayal.” Alfred only shook his head, but the bargain was set, like it always was.

You started walking away as Magnus did.

“Where are you going?” Alfred stood.

“To see Magnus. You go find out if they’ll let you see the Northman’s son yet.”

You snuck out of the hall, ducking guards and turning corners till you were in an area you were suppose to be in. Slipping into Magnus’ room and hiding beside the door, it was only moments before it flung back open, hands quick to jump out and stop the hatch that was flung open in his fury.

Magnus was running his hands through his hair, silently fuming until he grabbed a stool and smashed it against the stone wall.

“Not everything you hoped for?” making like you were just coming in, a hand slowly shutting the door.

“Get out!” He shouted, fist held tight like he might start lashing out on you. “I don’t want to hear a bloody word you have to say _liar_!” there had been some admittedly bad blood between you two. Not all of your pranks ended with you getting out scot-free and not everyone took your wide eyed innocent ‘how could I have known!?’ reactions.

“I heard everything-”

“Of course you have.” He seethed.

You sighed, circling around him. “You should know, I never meant any harm, and right now I am worried for you Magnus.” Magnus slammed his hands over his ears.

“Shut up, shut up! I don’t want to hear a single word you say! It’s lies! It’s all lies!”

In a hard yank you pulled one hand free and quickly stated, “Luck favors the prepared,” his head tilted in interest. “wouldn’t you agree?” Magnus looked to you, eyes steeled against any tricks you might throw at him. “I fear Ecbert will banish you.” He scoffed at you and ripped his hand free. “I know you won’t but you should make ready and leave on your own.”

“How stupid do you think I am?!”

“I don’t Magnus but you must acknowledge without Ragnar’s approval, Ecbert will find no use of you.”

“What does that matter? He’s wouldn’t care for me all this time just to-”

“He is a patient man, he is capable of many things. Alright, so you won’t leave. But when you’re out there, remember that the Northmen are enemies and that King Ragnar is feared across the land. Call it a cursed name. However you’re mother’s, there are those in Mercia still loyal to Kwenthrith’s memory and your claim. Ecbert will hope you die. I do not. I would like to see the Iron crown on the rightful head.”

Magnus gauged you carefully, “That’s a whole lot of silken words.” But he was tense, his voice quiet with thought. “Ecbert won’t banish me. He sees me like a son.”

“A son? A son like Alfred or a son like Aethelwulf I wonder?” is what you left him with, a smirk playing when your back turned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing most of your prediction come true, you still try to gauge the strange people that are the Northman. However it will take tact and cleverness to finally see one for yourself, hopefully it is not as disappointing as the news Alfred gives you.

Judith and Ecbert had been keeping Alfred from you all morning. That hollow bored feeling took you to wandering the grounds waiting for him to be done. Amidst the walking denizens the sight of Aethelwulf walking Magnus caught you. Feeling your blood rush you quickly ran toward, but not directly, to them. Hiding behind the wall you caught the end of the conversation, caught Aethelwulf pull a knife on the boys throat and toss him to the ground. Aethelwulf then walked away, leaving Magnus to fend for himself with nothing but the clothes on his back and a satchel to keep him warm.

“I’d head Northwest.” you announced after Aethelwulf was out of earshot. “Most of Kwenthrith’s supporters fled to the hills. Or so the rumors say. But who am I to truly know. Although the clans of the Highlands are far from short on warriors and rouges. Certainly if one was to unite them under one banner, that would be an army for the ages.”

Magnus wiped down the tears from his face, tossing the satchel around his arm. “This must be real funny to you.”

“On the contrary it breaks my heart. I would have thought it kinder to abandon you to some farm. I would have told you it was to humble and strengthen you for kinghood. Let you realize the truth long after you’ve gotten cozy.”

He shook his head. “ _Liar_.” He bit. “You would have me killed.”

Buried deep down under a cynical layer of ice, that hurt. What you told him was the truth, and you understood that it was hard to trust someone who’s tricked you but, to assume you wanted to kill everyone and destroy everything, was it really so hard to believe you weren’t _that_ cruel. You warned him the night before and believed he had every right to his stake on revenge. Couldn’t he give you some credit? The pain however came out in a bitter smile and a mischievous look in your eye. “Well then let’s thank God I am not the deciding vote. I say God and not Gods because clearly you have no connection to the latter anymore.”

The rest of the hours were spent with your ears burning and the title _liar_ snapping in the back of your head.

You never got to properly play with Alfred so in the night you decided to torture him for information. Sneaking into his room, you knew he wasn’t sleeping but hopped onto the bed and started smacking him in the face anyway. After he grabbed both arms you asked. “Did you get to see the Northman’s son?”

He kicked you off the bed to get back before peering over the edge with a big smile. “No, but I got to speak with Ragnar.”

Saying the magic word you sat up with stars in your eyes. “You did?! Was he tall?!”

“He was huge!” Alfred raised his hand above his head for measurement. “He was twice my size!” On a less excited note, Alfred added, “He smelled _really_ bad.”

“I can’t imagine he gets to bathe much as a prisoner.” you chuckled, scooting up closer. “What happened, what did he say?”

“Ecbert had my mother and I come in, they inquired about my father and…” Alfred ruffled his hair nervously with scratching. “Well you know how sentimental old people are, he uh… he hugged me.”

“He hugged you?”

“Yeah… because him and my father, my real father, were friends and I look like him I guess? It was awkward. I thought it was awkward anyway. But I think I played it off alright!”

You still scrunched your nose. “He hugged you… that’s not very… kill-everyone-in-sight-and-eat-their-children of him.”

Alfred laughed at you. “Disappointed?”

“It’s what my father kept promising me so yes I’m incredibly disappointed!” you jumped up with a pout.

“Tomorrow Ecbert is letting me see the cripple.” the pout disappeared like it had never been there. “But I don’t think he’s going to let you.” you gaped entirely offended, making Alfred smile sympathetically, “I think it’s suppose to be one of Ecbert’s lessons, _properly gauging the enemy_ or what have you.”

You thought for a moment before waving off all concern, “I’ll think of a way, not to worry.” Magnus entered your mind the same way he’d been haunting you all day. Swallowing the old wound you thought of telling Alfred and then pompously asking for your scilling, but a better time to do so came to mind and you nodded away the information. “Alright.” you smacked his cheek one last time. “Goodnight nephew.”

He pinched you in the arm that hit him. “Don’t call me that!”

* * *

In the early morning you were wide awake, not bothering to make your hair like most mornings, you instead watched Alfred’s every move from the corners of the castle. When you saw the since dubbed forbidden room and Alfred get escorted into it, jealousy was tugging at you to get in there no matter what the cost. Looking at your surrounding you took special care in devising a plan.

What the guards ended up hearing was a massive crash near them. Running down the hall, they passed you hiding in a spare room and quickly you slipped out, sneaking into the room before they could come back. Alfred give a beleaguered “ _Really?_ ” before you slid under the table.

“Shut up!” you smacked his knee. “Do this thing for me!” making yourself as small as possible you brushed up against the Northman’s legs to better hide from the door. The small contact with an actual Northman, no matter how crippled, dizzied you with excitement. Your cheeks heated thinking you’d never leave the smallest touch if only it could make you feel like this all the time. The faintest smell of dirt still clung to him despite having washed clothes. And iron. You weren’t sure where that smell came from, it reminded you of sitting next to a wolfhound that had recently come back from a successful hunt.

The door slammed open, the guards in a small panic. “Did anyone come in here?”

Alfred shook his head still setting up the pieces. “I did hear a crash though.”

“We’re aware of that, don’t let it bother you sir.” they paused, giving a weary eye to Ivar before closing the door like a cell. Alfred was at the ready to tease you.

“I wonder how much you owe Ecbert in property you’ve destroyed.”

Trying to crawl out from the table you smacked your head being too distracted in wanting to see Ivar up close. Once out you stood up as tall as any noble with your nose up at them both. “Well he knows I don’t like it when he keeps things from me. Really it’s all his fault his things end up broken.”

Your face may have burned at the failed attempt to make a good first impression but it wasn’t going to deter you from the plan. Out stretching a hand, Ivar looked between you, it, and Alfred. Trepidly he took it and you introduced yourself and your titles…  and your father’s titles, your mother’s titles, your sisters titles, titles you thought sounded cool, titles you made up entirely, titles that sounded ridiculous and hilarious, waiting for Ivar to either get annoyed or have an adverse reaction because he knew, he had to know what the words meant.

Unfortunately it only served to make him hold back a laugh and that could easily be attributed to your delivery and certainly wouldn’t be enough to convince Alfred, who was the one getting annoyed. He called for you to stop and you did.

“My father’s said so much about you and your people! How you’re all hairy, bloodstained, baby raping, woman eating barbarians who couldn’t think their way out of a wooden box.”

He stayed passively wide eyed, looking to Alfred for help from your crazy rambling. When he came back you were bent face level too him with highly suspicious eyes, which he annoyingly thought was funny. Alfred started, “Leave him alone he obviously-” nearly giving you away but you shushed him. Leaning back on your heels, a hand firmly gripped on the Northmens seat you let the game set and start, Ivar surprising you both with knowing how to play already.

“Oh! Did I tell you? Magnus has been banished.” Alfred glared at you, pausing before moving a piece.

“Yes I heard.”

“I think all together that makes… five gold scillings you owe me?” you watched Ivar’s face, waiting for a reaction at the sound of an inhuman level of low morals. “It would have been six but Aethelwulf only put the knife to his neck, a shame he didn’t have the nerve to slit the boy’s throat. Would have saved him and his father trouble down the road.”

No reaction arose, just the carved wooden pieces on the board.

“What trouble? What could Magnus possibly do?”

“Magnus might not be Ragnar’s son but he’s still Kwenthrith’s. There are those still loyal to her regime, others who hold a grudge against King Ecbert. If someone were to point him in the right direction…”

The white bishop tacked and Alfred snapped up. “You didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Are you trying to bring a war to Wessex?!”

You shrugged with a nonchalant hum. “Wessex isn’t my country, what do I care?”

Finally you got a scoff out of Ivar, the half laugh of a scoff that showed he heard what you said and thought it was funny. In your excitement you slammed a fist on the table with a great “HA!”, scattering the pieces and knocking the top-heavy ones over. “I knew it!”

In that instant you remembered the guards and slid under the table just as they burst in. Good ol’ Alfred was there to save you as usual.

“I got excited and kicked the table on accident. Sorry.”

The guards eyed them hard before nodding and leaving again. You poked out from the table like a troll under a bridge pointing an accusing finger, “You _can_ speak the language!”

Ivar went to defend but the fact he felt the need to revealed him completely. He sighed into a deep chuckle. “So what if I do?” He looked to you, a look in his eyes so opposite from before. His body slouched in the chair and a wicked smirk started to play on him. The reveal seemed to knock down a mask. A lovely little song played in your head how you were the only one clever enough to recognize it, not Alfred, not Ecbert, you. “That changes nothing.” he challenged, entirely too confident.

You hunched over the table like a stalking cat. “Actually that changes everything… I get _six_ gold scillings now.” Both you and Ivar looked to a miffed Alfred who was now six scillings in your debt and you both laughed.

“So it was all an act, to reveal me?” you weren’t expecting him to run a rough knuckle up your neck and you worried the heated blush that followed would crumble your grandiose attitude. For a moment you wondered if the Northman really raped woman or if they just seduced them with a silken voice and hooded eyes.

“Mostly, it was all true.” you stood to allow yourself some room to breath and straighten the delightful knot in your belly. “Magnus did get banished and I did tell him where to go should he want revenge, as should be his choice. Also a few of the titles.”

“Oh, a few?” He teased.

“You’re right… it’s my second eldest sister who’s the Diddler of Handmaidens.” he genuinely laughed again and you decided you loved that sound. For such a big guy it was so high pitched and giggly. It made you laugh too just to hear it. “Although you do have to be careful about revealing yourself as a liar. People take it so personally around here.” you warned, sliding half your body on the table and getting comfortable on the side between them, no chair in sight for you to grab.

Ivar chewed on your words while moving a piece after Alfred reset it. “Speaking from experience?”

“It’s an easy way to spice up one’s life. I don’t know what the big deal is. I mean, Alfred knows when I’m lying.”

“She gets this really pompous air about her-” he started as he moved a piece, looking straight to Ivar like you weren’t there anymore.

“No no, no I don’t-”

“Like,” he started making a terrible impression of you similar to the one you had after hitting your head on the table. “I know everything in the world so you shouldn’t question it ever because you’re stupid if you do-”

“No!” you turned to Ivar hoping to save some face, “That’s not how it is-”

“See! Did you see that, it was right there-”

You gestured to the board. “I have thirty-two small objects right in front of me I can chuck at your face, and let me tell you, you should have seen the procession that went into throwing that vase through the window.”

“Did it even make it through the window?” You were silent for a moment before looking down and shaking your head in shame. They both laughed at your antic.

“Well it’s not like I can be taught anything else outside of getting married and having children. The second half I’ve had to rely on Judith for. Although,” you turned your attention back to Ivar. “I heard your woman are allowed to do more than that. I heard they go to raids with you.” Ivar nodded with a simple hum, not taking his eyes off the board. “So do they actually fight or are they there to sew the armor?”

“Oh they fight and lead. Sometimes better than men. There is an Earldom made up entirely of Shieldmaidens.” It was such a small description but to hear it confirmed sent your mind wandering into the clouds seeing an army of women adorned in armor waving swords on high and shouting orders. Compared to before there was always doubt to bring you back but not this time. In your own world the best you could ever hope for was the off-chance you became Queen and another off-chance your King died. But not in Ivar’s. In the Northmen world you could be whatever you wanted, you were sure of it now. You could be like Judith and do whatever popped into your head except no one would shame you for it.

The sound of snickering brought you out to find both Alfred and Ivar seeing your dreamy gaze as silly. “What?”

“We are halfway through the game now and you have not said a word.” Ivar pointed. There was almost a bashfulness with his genuine smile, half hiding it behind his hand. You realized he was probably flattered by you being so entranced with the thought of his world. But you couldn’t let him now that.

You scoffed and waved. “I was just thinking of how ridiculous that sounded. Woman can’t fight.”

Alfred scoffed at your scoff. “ _That_ doesn’t sound like you.”

In retaliation you snatched a white pawn. Alfred grabbed at it but you chucked it across the room. “Oh~ sorry Alfred. He died. Got drunk and drowned in a river. Better figure a way to deal with it now.”

Scooting in his chair Alfred sighed back to his game. “You’re so spiteful.”

“Be glad it’s only spiteful.”

Ivar was chuckling, relaxed back with his firm arms crossed, the v of his shirt falling wider and making your mouth dry. You’d never seen a man past the neck before, and he was perfectly tantalizing to see. “So you two, brother and sister?”

With a big cat grin you were quick to answer. “Aunt and Nephew.”

Alfred groaned. “It’s more like cousins.”

“Except it’s not.”

Rolling his eyes Alfred explained. “She comes to visit about four times a year. In a way we grew up together.”

Ivar glanced in the direction of the guards. “You like to cause trouble together.” When he came back Alfred was glaring at you and moving a black piece to its original spot, you smiling at Ivar like you were oblivious. Certainly you weren’t.

“Now _did_ I move a piece? Or is Alfred using my suspect nature to cheat?”

Ivar looked between the two and settled. “I think I will trust him over you.”

You shrugged, “Your rooks funeral then.” falling quiet and watched their game, your smile was hard to keep at bay knowing you hadn’t touched the pieces after stealing Alfred’s white pawn. While Ivar didn’t notice he did handled the crutch well.

A clear intensity was brewing as the numbers dwindled when the door burst open too fast for you to duck. The guard snapped. “Damn it I knew that was you!”

“I’m a princess you can’t talk to me like that-!”

“Get out before I tell King Ecbert to send you home already!” you giggled, prancing out of the room and past the big scary guards, listening down the hall as they announced they were taking Ivar to see his father.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Ragnar and Ivar are prepared to leave, you finally convince Ecbert to at least let you see the son. While Ivar had been so hospitable before, it made you naive to the darker side of him, and you fall like a rabbit into a wolves den.

“Please! It could be my only chance to be in civil company with a Northman!” Begging was never the most dignified way of persuasion, but at this point it was all you had left. **  
**

“He can’t even speak to you-” Ecbert didn’t look up from his dinner, looking like he might fall asleep in his plate rather than finish it.

“You let Alfred see him!” He didn’t answer, acting like he didn’t hear. “Judith!”

Judith only smirked, looking up behind her lashes in a mischievous way. “I don’t think ‘being civil’ is all you want to do with him.”

You begin a heated bout of stuttering in a bad attempt to deny it, only making you frustrated with yourself. Giving a panicked yell to gather your wits and continue calmly, you gave what would have been a believable explanation had your sister not thrown you for a hell of a loop. But Ecbert had stilled, his fingers rubbing together in thought.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Your eyes jumped up. Ecbert was finally grinning, a certain flicker of light in his eyes that showed up so rarely these days. Waving to a guard he nodded. “It couldn’t hurt for a future Queen of Northumbria to know what a potential enemy is like. Just don’t tell your father.”

You sprang out of your seat, straightening your dress with a big smile and joyfully followed the guard. Ecbert watching you leave very closely before turning back to his food.

“You’re sure she has that kind of interest in him? She’s a little twisted in the head but to fall for a… barbarian.” The word didn’t sit right on the tongue as he thought back to Ragnar. “… a crippled barbarian-”

“A handsome young man.” Judith corrected while picking her food. She flashed a coy smile to Ecbert. “And is there not a special kind of romance forbidden between enemies?”

Ecbert smiled, not having enough energy to laugh. “I suppose that is the whims of a young girls heart.”

* * *

You were so excited you were paces in front of the guard, the torches to stave off the night passing by in a blur. The perturbed look from him as he opened the door vexed you. It was none of his business but he was going to tell someone, spread some sort of rumor. Inevitable you decided. There were more important things on your mind.

Seeing Ivar flinch to hide something had you amused and glad you were the one to enter first. Looking back you waved the guard off.

“But miss-”

“It’s fine.” You waved again, giving him a shove out the door. “I’ll be fine!” slamming the door in his face.

Ivar had since relaxed back on his bed, pulling out a sharp piece of metal and a piece of wood he’d been carving into what may have been one of his deities. The smirk he flashed knocked you breathless.

“Worried you would not see me again?”

You sighed into a smile, every step closer making your heart race faster. “You are leaving tomorrow and I fear if we meet again, it’ll be on opposite ends of a battlefield.”

As you sat on the bed he came forward from his relaxed position, bringing the two of you a breath away, the candle making the atmosphere into a romantic side. Before Ivar could say anything, you took the metal piece, still warm from his grip, and examined it. “Is this from the trunk?” you motioned behind at the beds end where a wooden trunk that used to have a metal latch rested.

Taking the piece back, his fingers brushing yours was all you needed to feel utterly charmed, his voice sending you a shiver. “Felt safer with it.”

“Oh like you couldn’t take on all these guards with your bare hands.”

Ivar straightened his back, chin up from receiving the highest praise. “I could, it’s more merciful with a blade. Kills them quicker.”

“So charitable of you!” you cooed with a wistful hand on your cheek. Ivar broke into a laugh, slouching back against the headboard again. Watching him blush and instinctively but subtly try to cover his face, it was then you realized he must not be used to girls talking to him like that. Your face heated a bit feeling it a shame, he had a darling smile. It spurred a certain confidence you knew could be dangerous. All the same you scooted closer to him, missing the taste of his breath. “Do you have a girl back home?”

Like you expected he was hesitant to answer, having to force up that wall of bravado first. “No. I am a Prince of Ragnar Lothbrok, very few women are worthy of me.” There was a bitterness in his smile and he gulped hard as if to keep something down.

“Oh, do tell, what would make a woman worthy to love a Prince of Ragnar?” you inched yourself closer, eyes getting distracted by his full lips and the shadows dancing along his neck and exposed collarbone between the low cut of his shirt.

Ivar seemed tense under the flirtation, leaned back as far as he could go, eyes dodging around the dark room. His brow seemed to start falling into one of agitation and anger before asking, a darkness in such beautiful eyes. “Is this a trick?”

You were taken back and immediately offended. “What?”

“This is a trick right?” The more he convinced himself the more vexed he sounded. The more chaffed you became. “You said yourself you like lying to people. You already lead me once into revealing secrets, what’s to stop you from doing it again, for  _fun_?”

Being denied the benefit of the doubt when you were so genuine always ripped you up. But pain wasn’t something you were accustomed to showing with grace.

You kept the closeness between you too but your glower was just as steep as his. “Toying with a cripple? Now that would take a special kind of wickedness. A wickedness I don’t think is _worthy_ of me.”

You went to get up and make some grand exit but as soon as you stood a harsh grip took your wrist and ripped you back down. Nearly falling into his lap the small shiv pressed sharply near the pulse of your neck. 

It was racing in a way it never had before. Your chest stung with every quick breath and the hairs of your skin could feel the chill of the air, the fabric of your clothes, the pinching of the grip on your wrist and the blade on your neck. The candle light was suddenly sharp and vibrant, the depths of the world revealing themselves only in this highest spike of fear.

You smirked, trying to sound resolute and condescending when you were so breathless. Even you felt you’d gone out of your mind to start testing him. “You’re really going to kill a Princess?”

You never imagined fear and excitement could be one in the same, but when he wretched you in, your hand slamming with a deep thud on his chest in protest, the blade burning into your flesh. The breath that left your beaming smile was shaking with unbridled thrill.

It confused him. Looking between your satisfied grin and your trembling hand. Though trembling it was, you loved the feel of how solid he was beneath it, how your elbow and shoulder ached to hold him off but Ivar was only using a fraction of his strength.

You two stared at each other, his face slowly mirroring yours as it started to dawn on him that you liked what he was doing. Licking his lips he looked at the closed door like the guard was ready to burst in. Coming back uncertainty took over again, but his wolfish smile didn’t leave. “What kind of game is this?” the grip on your wrist twisted, pulling you closer while the blade remained still, cutting just a touch deeper. “You can not tell me you like this.”

Your laugh was quiet, “I wish I could tell you what’s happening. I’m very confused myself.”

Ivar looked down on your neck, “You know you are bleeding?”

“I can feel it.” God you could feel everything. The small trickle of blood tickling down your collar and the knife still stinging like a bad burn. It only kept your heart at its break-neck pace, your body lightly shaking with over-stimulation, your legs suffering the worst to the point you had to move them they were so restless. Yet when they moved a heat flashed up your belly.

You had been waiting for something exciting all your life. Something unpredictable and could bathed the world in the most rawest forms of energy. Something savage. Something merciless. Your father promised you everyday that would happen one day and the world would be forever changed.

But it didn’t happen. Ivar’s hands fell from you and he relaxed on the headboard, entirely too pleased with the hurt disappointment on your face. He motioned to the door. “You should get back to your room. I would hate to get you in trouble. I know how you Christian’s cherish your… virtues.”

But you pushed, like a starving dog being kept from its food. “I’m a good liar.”

He chuckled, pausing to take in your lustful eyes and body still giving a few small shakes from the aftermath of your arousal. He then nodded to the door, his face full of devilish satisfaction. “Go.”

“I don’t even get a goodbye kiss?” You whined, trying your best to look so utterly helpless without it.

He shrugged. “What have you done to be worthy of it?”

You gasped at the affront only making him laugh. “You’re so cruel!” You cried, stomping up in an angry huff. “Have it your way, but I’m not finished with you!” he was beaming so much below you it was tempting to just take a kiss from him. At the same time that’s not what you wanted. _He_ was the Northmen, _he_ should be the one taking. A little lightning jolted your bones at the thought.

Adjusting your clothes and hair, you covered up the cut on your neck. It wasn’t until you were back in your room, lighting a candle and looking into the mirror that you disturbed the red line reaching into the breast of your dress. Trailing your fingers up the still warm trail, the sensation causing a shudder in your spine, you got a good look at the cut on your neck. It was small and thin, but a bit deep. Certainly not deep enough to kill but the blood you wiped away was replaced in a small tear shape. Cleaning up only seemed to exhilarate you more preventing you from getting much sleep that night. Your head was swimming in adrenaline and the soaked core between your legs keeping you from your dearly awaited dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not being satisfied with the night before, you join the wagon ride back to your fathers kingdom. Ragnar has a few words of wisdom to share with you and you get yourself a proper goodbye from Ivar. But not before letting it slip what you really want from him.

The guards in the courtyard all tensed as you hopped up into the wagon, sitting beside Ivar’s legs. You almost wanted to giggle from causing such a ruckus without saying a single word.

Aethelwulf stepped up from beside his father and wife, both failing to hide delighted grins. “Princess-”

“My time here is almost up anyway.” You waved. “I figured since this wagon is already heading to my Father, might as well make it easy on everyone and hitch a ride.” you smiled at him innocently like you didn’t know you were settled between a legendary savage and his son, the reason you needed a thick scarf around your neck.

Aethelwulf and all his guards glanced back to Ecbert for his approval and the kings smile was quickly stuffed away, locked tight by a few lazy fingers. “You don’t have to go through such lengths Princess. We can have a carriage ready for you by tomorrow-”

“Oh nonsense! To think I can not be so humble! It couldn’t hurt to have someone keep them company outside of spears and dirty looks could it?”

Judith shook her head. “Always the considerate one. That’s why Father loves you best.” It was by no means a compliment but a taunt. It meant as soon as the wagon ride was over you’d be back in Northumbria, locked away in that cold grey castle. One where the only passions allowed were in your father’s and all others were abhorrent and to be punished.

Your eyes wandered to the sky briefly. _Grey_ , like just the thought was already sucking the life out of you. It would be worth it you told yourself, just a few more minutes with these men, a few more memories to hold when the days became unbearably dead.

“I only exist to serve.” you returned with a little bow, an inside joke shared between you and Judith.

Alfred came up beside you in a small whisper, “I know what you’re doing and you’re an idiot.”

You scoffed at Alfred whispering back, “A clever happy idiot.” but you two melted into smiles and you bent over to hug him goodbye. “Do ruin this castle while I’m away.”

“And take that pleasure away from you? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Pulling back Alfred handed the Black King to Ivar, a token of their time together and a welcomed rivalry. With a last nod the horses were ushered out of the castle grounds.

While you were brimming with a million questions, you had to respected Ivar’s need to keep silent lest the guards turn around and take him back to Aethelwulf for the slaughter. Surprisingly, it was Ragnar who decided to humor you when the castle had disappeared in the thicket of the forest.

“Do you know what Ecbert had to say about you?” the damage Aethelwulf had inflicted healed enough to see his bright eyes. Something in them and his voice gave a sense he already knew everything you were going to say. It was a little unnerving, like you were about to be toyed with and couldn’t even run.

You chuckled, spinning a gold coin, one of six you rightfully stole from Alfred. “I’m assuming it wasn’t very nice.”

“A mischievous little beast in love with chaos and glory.”

You made a face. “A beast? That’s a bit harsh.”

“It might interest you to know, we have a God who loves just the same things, teased the same name. Where I’m from some would think you were born of him.” you felt it odd his eyes dodged to Ivar, making you wonder what this God really meant for them. Neither looked like they were afraid or disturbed, more amused by the prospect.

“As interesting a thought that may be, I’m afraid my mother if far from exciting enough to sleep with a demon God.”

“He is a shape-shifter.”

“Convenient.” you teased. “Still, her lord husband terrifies her too much for her to risk the tortures of adultery, no matter how beautiful.”

“Ah but this God is a magnificent liar, like _you_ I hear, and isn’t it like a liar to change faces to get what you want? Who’s to say he didn’t change into your father one night?”

The thought bounced around in your head, filling your chest with an odd sort of pride and fear to think your father was a God from a far off land. But that only made you think of your own land and all its consequences. “Wouldn’t that make me an abomination? Something to be ripped apart and burned?”

It tilted Ragnar in confusion. “Why? You would have God’s blood in you. Specially chosen for a great destiny.”

“Well yes but you said he was a wicked God. So wouldn’t it be a wicked destiny I’ve been sentenced to? Better off dead than causing trouble?”

He leaned in close on the bars. “There is great use for wickedness in the world. Only a fool would refuse it when it’s gifted so nicely.”

An ominous cloud descended on the entourage. You glanced to your reluctant paramour and he was failing at not smiling and failing harder at not looking at you from under his brow. When your eyes met the smile only broadened on both of you.

From there the conversation came easy, Ragnar sandwiched between your English and Ivar’s Norse. It seemed the casualness helped the guards relax enough they started their own talks, making the ride short. For the ocean’s rim was never far, and soon they were peeling Ivar away from his father, the two sharing longing stares of silent parting. You thought perhaps you’d let them leave with that, stay out of the memory as it would be their last.

“Why don’t you go see him off?” You turned and Ragnar had that knowing smile again. “Give him something to look forward in his eventual return.”

“He didn’t seem all that interested in what I had to give last night.” You mumbled under your breath hoping the few guards left wouldn’t acknowledge it.

Ragnar’s smile grew wider. “Try again. He’s a stubborn boy.”

You gave him a distrusting eye before hopping off the wagon, making your way down the hill and to the beach. Pompously you dismissed the guards, told them to gather things and leave you alone for a moment to enjoy the air, you didn’t want to be disturbed by them bustling around. Some grumbled thinking you were acting the typical royal brat whereas a few clever ones were starting to get an idea about what was really happening, glancing back at the boat.

After they were a good distance, you made your way up the ramp. Ivar seemed surprised to see you on the ship with him, the surprise turning into a playful smirk. He motioned with a nod if there were any guards and you shook your head.

“Coming with me?”

You sighed. “If only.” Sitting down next to him you were purposely close, your side all along him and he got comfortable draping an arm along your shoulders. “Surely you can’t leave me with nothing. It will be so long until we meet again, if ever.”

“We will meet again and you know it. Stop acting like such a baby.” he tapped your nose like he was scolding a child but you pouted anyway with big sad eyes.

“But I’ll miss you.”

It seemed you’d gotten good at flattering him now, Ivar getting bashful all over again before gathering his wits and puffing his chest. “Do this thing, and you can have me.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to watch what happens to my father.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “I already know what’s going to happen to your father. He’s going to be tortured. They all get tortured. I even know how it’s going to end, should I tell you here-”

“No. I want you to watch.”

“But it’s so-” you suddenly became aware of how terrible a thing it was to say, feeling a little embarrassed to admit in a whisper. “It’s boring.”

Ivar laughed, “What?! How can you say that?”

“Because my father tortures people all the time and I just don’t get the appeal in further beating an already beaten foe. I know what’s going to happen. They beg, they scream, they die. Just knowing they won’t escape or fight back, it’s just, it’s _so boring_. Oh _and then_ I’ll have to act horrified in front of my father, have heart to heart talks about his righteousness for days. Does this sound fun to you? Does this sound like a lovely pastime!? Please don’t subject me to this.”

Ivar thought, a finger touching his lips you were so desperate to kiss. “This sounds like a feat of strength for you.”

“It would be, believe me.”

“Perfect.” You groaned loud enough you were sure the hills heard it. “It will prove yourself to be worthy of me.” he snickered, trying to shake you into the idea.

You grumbled again looking off into the ocean and wondering if walking into it would be easier to bare.

The way he tilted your chin, not in the manner of curling his finger under or cupping a cheek like most lovers would, he had his fingers splayed along your jaw, his thumb caging you in like he might strangle you if you refused. It made you smile to see that dark and devious light in his eyes. “You do this for me and when I return… I will give you anything and everything you wish.”

“Oh? What if I want you to marry me?” It may have been a fun little quip but at the same time, you felt vulnerable, entirely open to any wound he wanted to inflict. You really hoped it didn’t show but the longer he mockingly thought, the more you wanted him to whisk you away from your boring world.

He finally nodded. “If that is what you wished.” He then jumped an accusing finger. “But I am not having a Christian wedding.”

“I said I wanted to marry you not put us to sleep!” you laughed but it dwindled away as Ivar looked off confused. When his blue eyes came back there was a certain recognition in them. Your heart jumped realizing he deduced you’d already thought about this, that maybe it wasn’t all a joke. You opened your mouth to defend, getting a measly, “Uh-,” before he jumped his hand up from your jaw and covered your mouth. 

“You have to watch all of it.” there was both a softness and determination in his face, making your instructions clear if marriage is what you really wanted. “ _Every moment_ until my father’s death.”

You nodded, understanding the terms. 

Coming back down the salt of his hand stung your cut. Ivar watched, feeling your pulse quicken like he was holding a rabbit in his hand. Somehow spiking even faster when he pulled you into a kiss. You hadn’t expected it to turn so hungry so quickly, his thumb pulling down on your chin to fill your mouth in a way it never had been before. Your body tingled to catch up to that sort of intensity, your own hand fisting his shirt and pulling him flush against you.

It brought back that strange world where you could feel every little sensation he created to a hair-raising degree. 

The scrape of his nails as they tangled in your hair, twisting and pulling to keep that sense of control. The slide under your thigh, down to hooking behind your knee, like he wanted to toss you on his lap. The world was awash in yellows and greens and layers and layers of blue.

Your hand unclenched and wandered into his shirt, your nails scratching down and digging into the silky flesh like you might claw out his heart, a hiss escaping him and chilling your lips.

Mirroring when the blade pierced your neck, the pain didn’t deter him in the slightest. You felt the growl in his chest first, grabbing at you harder and lifting your dress, wedging himself between your quivering legs and it felt so right to have him there.

Ivar abruptly slowed and broke, a last nip of teeth on your lip. It was far _far_ too soon. The reason reached your ears, the sound of the guards talking, inching closer and closer. A painful amount of frustration built up low in your stomach, having you try to claim another kiss but Ivar snapped back with a triumphant grin. You whined, hands relaxing and splaying to feel his still hammering heart, “I wish I could come with you. Returning home now is going to be as abysmal as slowly dying.”

Fingers trailed the frame of your face and down your neck, stinging that cut again. “When I come back you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

You looked at him suspiciously but with a light heart, “Worry about my boredom or dying slowly?”

He kissed your forehead with a big grin, “Until we meet again.”

“Until then-”

“Wait!” he grabbed your arm keeping you down. “I want to make a bet!” it was hard not to laugh at how excited he was at remembering. “I bet a gold coin I can conquer Northumbria in a week.”

“Hm.” You stood, straightening your dress. “I bet two you can do it on the first try.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years haven’t been kind to you or Ivar, both being forced to suffer alone in your separate worlds. When the army comes and claims Northumbria, you run away to your long parted love, never looking back.

So early in the morning and the castle was clanking and shouting to the point it was impossible to sleep. Rubbing your eyes, you growled and climbed out of bed, knocking on the door of your own room. When nothing but silence came you knocked harder and pulled at the handle. Still locked.

The relationship between you and your father had deteriorated fast after Judith’s visit to warn of the coming Heathen Army. She told Blaeja to learn how to read, but she smiled and nodded at you. It was meant to be subtle, brushed off because your father knew you were always the most polite. But he forbade you from your next visit. Then the next and the next. It had you bitter and irritable, lashing out in the only way you knew how; leading the court into self destructing.

Only you were too distracted, too focused on the hollow pain all these rules caused you. When it blew up, it blew up on you, revealing to your father your true nature. It was all a landslide then. Your father publicly humiliating you led to the court feeling they could to, which led to rumors, true or untrue. Oh your father despised you now, and unlike Judith you didn’t have a King to guard you.

Frustrated, you pounded on the door and this time it flew open. Captain Godwyn stared down at you with the same spite everyone else had. “The Heathen Army has reached the shores. We’re readying the opposition.”

The words hit like a war drum and your question flew out before you could stop it, “Can I come?” The second it left your lips you crushed your eyes in regret. There must have been a reason it was Godwyn at your door and not some nameless new recruit.

King Aelle rounded the corner slowly. “Can you go into a war zone? Is that what you just asked?” The anger was already dripping in his tone, making you hold yourself tighter in preparation.

“I just want to get outside. I wasn’t thinking of where.” A lie, a useless obvious one but lying was the only way you could feel safe in his presence anymore.

“I have suffered a lot from you these past years.” He stalked to you, looming over but you didn’t back down. “Did Judith have to bare your toying with people? This male’s desire to be at death’s edge? Or was she the one who taught it? These questions haunt my dreams.” He shook his head with a snarl and you knew what was coming next, gulping to keep your resolution. “And worst yet, the rumors of your impurity with the enemy. Are you hoping he’s come like the devil? To drag you into the fiery pits so you grow fat on all your sins?”

A smirk broke through, just hearing the allusion to Ivar put a tingling under your skin. “ _Poor King Aelle, cursed with harpy's for daughter’s, born with hellfire in their hearts and cold winds under their wings._ At least it will make a good song to keep with me in remembrance when he comes and rips apart your army-”

The sharp bite of a slap came, the force of it splitting your cheek on your own teeth. Through all the ways of rehabilitate in order to make you a proper and chaste woman, you felt the stinging burn of life coursing through your veins, tickling you into laughter. Aelle growled at the reddened teeth and wicked smile on you. You didn’t spit out the blood, preferring to swallow it and taste the spirit you’d forgotten you had. “Would it please you to know he’s cut me deeper?”

“I should have known Ecbert and Judith would make a demon of you.”

“Oh father, die knowing I was always a demon. The most vile kind, only in competition with _you_.”

* * *

Northumbria was left with only a handful of guards and terrified citizens locked in their homes. It made for easy escaping, you sneaking out as the sun began to put blue in the night’s sky for your sweet mother couldn’t bare to keep you locked up is such a dark time. The trail was easy enough to follow, the hoofprints having mauled the ground.

You didn’t expect Ivar to actually do it, defeat your father on the first try. It was suppose to be one of those impossible bets that would make the winner feel unsatisfied in getting their trophy. But damn, he did it. You smiled, really you shouldn’t have expected less from someone with so much fire in their eyes.

The first thing received from the battlefield was the stench. It was bitter and musky, death coating your throat as you inhaled. The grass you came upon wasn’t green, but red and black, covered in acres of bodies, human and horse alike. It was a grand sight, making you wish you’d been there to see it in action. Instead you got remnants. The ground ripped into rusted mud where the battle had been thickest. People on the outskirts with axes and arrows in their backs from trying to run. You wondered the kind of rush from a victory this scale. Was it hard? Did it last long? You didn’t see many Northmen in the mix, were they that good or did the army really outnumber them a hundred to one like the scouts claimed.

You followed the butchery till you found the stampede of feet leading back to the beach. It seemed they already left but an army was never easy to hide. Being lead back to the forest you didn’t have to walk far when the sudden sting of a cold blade came on your neck, an effective way of catching your attention. You only smiled with your hands up. “Ivar, son of Ragnar.”

If they didn’t understand Saxon, they understood those names. The steel stiffened before slipping away, the person stepping back to get a better look at you. Your black cloak hid much and you weren’t ready to give anything away. Silently you examined him back, surprised someone so tall and broad could be so silent. He looked like he belonged to the forest, earthy leathers and furs, the tattoos and scars, hair so long and wild added to how other worldly he felt to you. He motioned and you followed, finding it funny he didn’t bother to keep a hand on you, something you’d make sure he’d regret.

The campaign was on the move, it felt like many, but not all of them. They herded at a welcomed pace, spread out into the trees and thicket. They talked casually and joyfully, like it was a silly expedition and not a war march. Seeing it put an odd warming in your heart, made you feel like you wanted to belong and would do anything to never leave.

As some women walked by, surprisingly in dresses of their own, you left the burly captor and walked behind them out of his sight, ditching the cloak on a wagon. It gave you free range to the army, sifting between people, walking ever further ahead.

You heard his voice first, somehow still so recognizable after all these years. Ivar was apart of the lead, talking and laughing with a few others while he road in a chariot pulled by a white horse. Your heart flipped to see him again. Adorned in dark leather armor, skin just a bit more hardened, sharper, he’d grown even more beautiful then you imagined. It made you anxious to wonder if he’d feel the same about you.

Sneaking up behind him was surprisingly easy. It seemed your captor was more dead set of finding you to avoid saying he lost you at all. The only stop anyone gave you was when the few men Ivar was speaking with noticed you lift your dress to quietly hopped up on the chariot platform.

Slowly you slid your hands under his arms to embrace him, it was cute to hear him abruptly stop talking and stiffen till he was sitting straight. “Mm, feels like you’ve gotten stronger.” You whispered against his ear. “I wonder how it’s going to feel when you’re holding me down.”

As soon as he realized it was you his hand came up to grip yours, the smile returned easy when he saw your face. “How did you get here?!”

You lifted and rounded to meet him. “Because I’m clever and amazing.” You raised his cape made of fur and sat in his lap, tossing your legs over one of his while tugging yourself close. “And also cold. I had to ditch my cloak to get away from your man who was far too trusting with women.”

While he wanted to take the time in enjoying the sight of your face, the bruise was as fresh as the morning air. His fingers came up hovering over it, brow low in furious question.

“Oh this? A last parting gift from my father. But that’s not something we need to worry about anymore, is it?” you poked him in the chest, Ivar suddenly beaming at you like you’d just fallen out of his most lovely dreams. “Where are my two scillings?”

A hand on your back he pushed you close. “They are with my tent.” He pointed back vaguely at the numerous wagons. “You will have to go get them.”

Not bothering to look you pushed even closer, your noses almost touching. “I couldn’t possibly go by myself, I might get lost.”

A hard cough interrupted you two. The man was mean looking, his dark blue eyes looking at you with a feral madness to them. He was older then the rest yet there was a resemblance between Ivar and the three he’d been speaking with. But it was the one at your feet, like a youthful mirror to the Ragnar you met years ago, except such a genuine humor about him, who spoke. “So this is your princess you were bragging about?”

You put a hand on your flattered chest and teased Ivar. “You were bragging about me?”

Before he could defend himself the good-natured one slapped his knee. “He talked about you non-stop, we were starting to think you were the only reason he wanted to return.”

Ivar wanted to snap at him but you didn’t let that happen, grabbing both sides of his since grown stubbled face to keep him with you. “Oh you! That’s so darling!” He opened his mouth again but you closed it off with a kiss. It made all that offended bravado melt into a smile as he hugged you closer. Oddly a scoff came behind you. You broke and looked by at the redhead littered in braids pouting at the woods.

“Forgive him.” Ivar drolled. “Some did not think you were real.”

“Oh goodness they must have teased you mercilessly!”

“They did.” Hearing Ivar capable of whining was the best reveal to date.

“And it was all my fault, I gave you no proof!“

“It was!”

You snickered, bringing your wolfish grin to his ear, “I suppose I’ll have to make up for that.” You bit his ear getting a laugh as you both forgot about the present company again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being so restricted in your more sinful thoughts, you finally get a moment alone with Ivar, only to find him hesitant. But you two are of a like mind, the allure of war and love too much to ignore. 
> 
> (This is the smut chapter, you won't lose anything by ending the story at Chapter Five if the doo disinterests you)

You ran your hand along the furs, pressing down to feel the firmness of the bed. It was nothing like yours. You’d grown up with goose feather pillows and a mattress two feet thick to save from the wood. Your bed was soft and expensive, made for a princess. This one was unforgiving, calloused and worn, made for quick setting and quicker gathering, made for war. You smiled, sliding your body down on it, the wood making your soul feel just a little more hardened, the fur and lamps tickling you warm against the night air.

“It feels so good to be away and know I’m never going back.” It was probably better not to tell him how you’d been locked in your room for the past five months. How that was the kindest of punishments you had received. How you kept begging your mother and sister to let you out or at least bring you something to do other than pray and cross stitch. Neither would go against your father’s wishes. Unfortunately your understanding and pity at the time had been tossed aside for pain and slipping sanity. Looking back, now you wished you’d grabbed them ages ago and ran away to Judith. Had Ecbert keep you all safe from your father’s tyranny while you showed them what real happiness looked like.

Looking beside you Ivar was uncharacteristically quiet, propped up on the edge of the bed, watching below you with a sort of angry concern. You rolled over bringing your face close, still chipper as ever. “What is it?”

Watching his eyes dodge and his jaw tighten, he was hesitant and it worried you. After years of hearing how terrible and wrong all your desires were, it frightened you maybe he also realized it in his time away.

“You have seen me. My brothers. Been surrounded by men like us… do you still want me?” You couldn’t help the small laugh of relief. Ivar not understanding however, snapped his glare at you.

“Why wouldn’t I still want you?” you shook your head, “You think I’ve never met a handsome man who could walk before?” It didn’t seem to ease him, if anything it made him angrier, dipping behind the bed as a reminding barrier.

“Oh Ivar,” you cupped his chin, bringing him back. It ached your heart seeing him look so vulnerable. Lovely eyes usually so determined and proud, wide and waiting for rejection. “There are no men like you. Not in my world, not even in yours. There’s a power in you I’ve seen men towering above cower at. It’s a power not easily come by and I don’t believe it’s gifted. It’s yours, and you, and I’ve never met any man that comes close to mystifying me with but a look the way you do.”

He remained lost, eyes searching your face for any hint you were false, that this was a dream or a cruel joke. _Silken words_ , the partner to Magnus’ _Liar_. You exaggerating to lure someone into comfort before you pushed them into the spikes. You hoped the small tremble in your heart didn’t reach Ivar. You didn’t want him to think you were lying, you had never lied to him, not really. To reassure you both you pulled forward and kissed him, tender and long, filled with the years spent in unrequited desire. Dreaming and dreaming and dreaming. Every sense taunted with the little moments he left you with. Remembering the kiss on the boat, the sudden heat that jumped through your body when he pulled himself between your legs, you moaned as your mouth slid along his. When you broke, that fevered desire took over again, aggressively pushing into him to taste past his lips.

For a moment he enjoyed it, enjoyed it while it stayed behind a wall. Feeling your tongue tickle along his bottom lip stiffened him, making you pull back in concern. Ivar wasn’t so cautious before. The worry of your nature took hold again, no matter how irrational and you finally voiced your concern. “You don’t think I’m lying do you?”

He tried to offer a smile but couldn’t look at you, shaking his head. It made you miss his heat, wondering why he stayed on the ground instead of taking you like you knew he wanted. His hand inched up and he took both of yours. It helped your confidence enough to tease. “Am I still unworthy? Even after doing what you asked?”

A breath of a laugh came as he shook no again. His hands squeezed, the pronounced lump in his throat bobbing nervously. “You were never not worthy.”

“Oh?” you pushed your hands through his, playing with the ties of his jacket, your eagerness pulling a smirk from him as he felt the top loosen. “So you just enjoy tormenting me is that it?”

A hand free to wander, his fingers brushed your neck, up along your jaw, his thumb pulling down your wetted lips, again the memory of the boat, his tongue mating with yours dried your mouth in need for more.

“I liked seeing you want more.” The hand dropped along with his gaze, something akin to shame in his face. “I didn’t know what to do the first time, in the castle. I thought it was a stray moment, that I should just enjoy the feeling of a woman wanting me at all, truly wanting me. I was…” his words dropped into a mumble. “I was afraid of how it would end.”

“How it would end?” You chuckled, a coil low in you tugged your hips in a circle, “Would seeing me writhe beneath you be so frightful?”

He didn’t answer, looking at the door like he might leave. You pulled closer and pressed your lips along his exposed neck, trailing up, parting them more and more as your breathing heavied. “Please Ivar.” You whispered under his ear, feeling his skin bump from the contact of your heated sigh. “Come to bed. Even if it’s for a moment. I missed you. Did you not miss me too?”

Tilting his head into your kisses, his brow was knitted in frustration, eyes closed and voice strained. “Of course I missed you but…”

You nipped at his neck, hand finding his heat under the open part of the jacket, firmly running up his neck and down his chest. In a heavy sigh his hand tangled in your hair, mouth teetering close but not taking you, still so hesitant, still afraid there was no excuse he could give to stop when the insecurity got to him. Your fingers came up, feeling the pulse fast on his neck, feeling it well up with the deep intake of breath. You gave a light squeeze under his jaw, more a playful one, but he jolted back in a gasp like you slapped him. Staring at each other you couldn’t stop your true enjoyment from filtering through, even when his face remained shocked. Excitedly you asked, “What did it feel like?”

Ivar broke out of his trepid stare and laughed. The spike of adrenaline you squeezed into him shook off some of that self-doubt, lifting himself on the bed. Sitting up with a triumphant smile your legs teetered, held tightly together. They shivered when you got what you wanted, him fiercely parting them and yanking you under. You both adjusted, you lifting your dress to the thighs to welcome the firm weight of him, wrapping your arms around his waist to trap him.

Ivar went to undo the rest of his jacket but when he went to shake it off something in you stopped him, “Leave it on,” you touched its blacked and iron design, not seeing a scratch even after the battle with your father. He raised a brow, not sure how to take that but settled seeing your eyes holding a sort of devious light.

A tempted hand ran up your thigh, the hair standing on end echoing in heat where his roughened fingers brushed. It was the callousness, the hint of a weapon fitting comfortably in his hand that had sewn a thought. Surprising you both with a question, his hand paused along your clothed rib to look at you.

“Tell me what the battle was like.” It may have seemed out of nowhere to him but a rapid was flushed under your skin, hips squirming to ease a tug in your spine. “I passed by what was left on the way here. I wanted to see it in action but wasn’t allowed. Please tell me what it was like to be in the heart of something like that.”

His lifted against you at the mention of it, sighing into a smile, the unintentionally grind tightening your chest. “That… is not something I imagined to talk about while lying in bed with a woman.”

You arched up a bit closer, excitement brimming in your every nerve. “Please?”

Taking a deep breath, while his eyes were on you they drifted far away, recalling the right moment to start in. His hand started again, kneading your breast, the nipple peeking through the fabric.

“When we stood on either side, our armies amassed, the air was… still… but charged.” You saw his pulse quicken at the memory, like he could feel it now, the black of his eyes growing as they peered back in time. Ivar’s wandering hand glided down your stomach, him too engrossed to notice you shudder under the movement. “And when we began to run the ground, they were scared but the army came at us anyway,” he smiled, savage, lost in a hail of war screams as his hand came back up in the valley of your chest.

Feeling your sigh ghost around his face, he jumped to you, a momentary worry you might be bored. What he got was eyes wide with wonderment and lips parted from tantalizing interest. The smile grew wicked as he slide his hand down, tugging the rim of your dress to free your breasts. He was close to your face, his voice reflecting how wound up he was by the memories as he played. “I knew there were a thousand men around me,” he squeezed one side ending with a teasing pinch of your areola, making your legs twitch higher around him, “stomping and screaming, but I couldn’t hear a thing. Not until we clashed.”

“It was like lightning!” He emphasized with a grind of his hips, loosening the coil in a dizzying gasp. “Metal and shields smacking hard all at once, and the ongoing battle this unending roll of thunder.” Your heart was beating out of your chest, gasps and sighs coming with the rhythm he didn’t seem to realize he found. The fabric of his pants rubbing, heating against your clit, making you squirm and you breath shake. “I honestly couldn’t tell you if it lasted minutes or hours.”

His eyes found you again, a small moan escaping you at the fire that pulsed through you both, bouncing back from you to him. Almost in a whimper, you urged him, “Tell me more.”

He shuddered at the sight of you, kissing you instead, filling your mouth in a rush you hadn’t expected. Wet, soft, yet competitive, so many nights you fought to remember it like that. When it broke he was grinding faster, his breath as quick as yours, though you were quivering at the ever hardening shaft splitting your slit in a hunger to be enveloped by something softer than cotton. “Sometimes it was hard to see, sometimes I could tell you the color of their eyes, but I could remember the blood. Red spraying all around like rain, but so hot it steamed the air where it landed.” he chuckled darkly, “and it landed everywhere.”

Your hands slid up his shoulders and tangled in his hair already falling around his face in a mess. “Yes,” you whimpered. “I want to see that.” He ground hard at your words, a long groan escaping as he screwed his eyes shut, making you drive against him for your already tender and chafed nethers. Your arms wrapped around him keeping him close as you confessed, bringing him back out of his reverie. “I want to be apart of that world. I want to be by your side when you ride into battle. I want to see it.”

Pressing your lips to his you bit at the sultry wet flesh. He pushed you down, not breaking as one hand pushed down his pants, you giving a high cry to feel his scolding flesh against your own heat, suddenly feeling so cold in comparison. You watched in heady anticipation as he lined himself up, legs twitching when the blunt head found your entrance.

Feeling your world tilt on a high of what was about to happen, you needed to know one thing.“I’ve always known Northmen to be my own people’s word for you. What are your warriors truly called? In your tongue?”

When his eyes cut up to yours, it was like an animal had possessed him. Eyes focused to a razor edge, mouth parted in a half smile baring his most pointed teeth to you, and your stomach splashed in the heat knowing you were about to be devoured. He growled the word against your sharp gasp as he pressed and stretched you, cleaving into you with satisfying reverence, “ _Viking_.”

The ascension was careful and precise, backing in and out when your skin pulled against him, coating himself in your messy and long awaiting arousal, plunging further in as you arched your back to easier take him. You’d forgotten Judith saying it was painful at first, but you were damned determined to ignore it, thinking it more like another test and somehow that numbed it in part. When his hips met yours it felt like he was at the very end of you, the coils release so liquid warm you moaned into the crook of his neck, nails scratching up his armor in loud chips. There was a pause, for you to adjust and for him to simply take in what had just happened.

“I want you to take me like this after a battle.” You whispered, mouth spilling out your dreams all on its own. “I want you covered in blood, I want it still warm while you ravage me.” His hips rocked, a slow snap and you felt his shaky breath against your back. “I want you-” you moaned as a flood of white flush pushed away your ability to think, the agonizingly slow pace filling the pool of fire between your legs. “I want you high from the spirits of battle, make me a conquest to rend apart.”

Your words dissolved into moans as he murmured pridefully in your ear. “Isn’t that what I am doing right now? Rending you apart?” His hip snapped hard tearing a sharp cry that had you looking up at him dazed, nerves lit up like the noon sun on the hottest day.

“Oh God do that again.” He laughed like you had just called him a God, hitting you hard and watching you fling your head back, crying out in gluttonous delight, the fullness imprinted even as he pulled out only to slam back and feel it anew.

You’d forgotten you were in the heart of a camp, forgotten how to be polite and lie through your teeth to keep others happy, to keep you happy. Everything you were was honest and raw and seeing his face, he adored you for it, these dark desires that were always in the back of your mind.

You asked him if writhing would look bad on you, and writhe you did, hands grasping, crawling under his clothes to feel closer because him being in you just wasn’t enough. You had your eyes closed, a buzzing pooling in your head, so close on the precipice into something you desperately wanted to feel. Fingers trailed up your chest, so opposite to the hard thrusting licking a wild fire deep in you. They brushed your hair to the sides, tickling lightly like he was measuring you.

All the buzzing in your head was suddenly trapped when his hand clamped your throat, using the grip to hit you down on his cock even harder. It wasn’t enough to stop your breathing but your body’s instinct was alive and thrashing, your cries getting higher as the world turned into a blur, the waves of euphoria hitting like the beat of a storm.

His own body became taunt, moaning out your name as the fingers tightened harder till you wheezed, only prolonging your quivering and ecstatic high. As he stilled you were suddenly lifted up by the neck to face him, hair damp and disheveled, breath heavy, mixed by yours. “What did _that_ feel like?”

You both laughed at the call back moments ago, or was it hours? He rolled off you, the cold air finally reached and felt refreshing. Everything dazzled along and under your skin, the fur tickling and the candlelight edging you into a sleep. You sat up and pulled the rest of the dress off, rolling over and undoing the last ties of his jacket. He glanced at you in question and you chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I just want you to hold me. I want to feel your skin on mine in the morning and know this isn’t a dream.” He could relate to the sentiment, lifting up to kiss you slowly before letting you take what you wanted, no matter how small.


End file.
